


Cost of Doing Business

by choir_of_one



Series: JonElias Week 2020 [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Elias Uses Excel Spreadsheets to Seduce Unsuspecting Researchers, His Reign of Terror Continues, Inappropriate Workplace Behavior, JonElias Week 2020, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Pre-Canon, boss/employee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26086783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choir_of_one/pseuds/choir_of_one
Summary: Jon makes a mistake on his expenses. Luckily, Elias is a patient teacher.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: JonElias Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896295
Comments: 16
Kudos: 93
Collections: Jonelias Week 2020





	Cost of Doing Business

“Elias wants to see you in his office,” Rosie stated, the expression on her placid face giving nothing away. “When you have a moment, of course. But preferably now.”

On shaking legs, Jon began to rise from his desk, the chair scraping loudly behind him. “Of course, y-yes. Right away.” he mumbled, well aware of the eyes of the researchers currently trained on him. _What did I do wrong? Is this about the Fairchild case? Oh Lord, who did I offend?_ He offered Sasha (his deskmate, and currently closest coworker) a weak smile, which she immediately returned, though her eyes clearly betrayed her concern on his behalf.

Elias rarely interacted with the staff, particularly the researchers, once they were hired. Strangely, he insisted on doing all of the interviews himself. Jon remembers his piercing gaze during his own mediocre, stuttering mess of an introduction. The man seemed like a picture perfect bureaucrat, poised and elegant in a way that Jon could never hope to be. But after several moments of silence, he gave Jon an easy, calming smile and patiently walked him through a series of rather probing questions. Jon had found himself confiding in a man he’d just met, the answers spilling from his throat like a long-awaited confession. No talk of Mr. Spider, of course, but he came pretty damn close to admitting his childhood trauma. His self-control in that aspect was most likely the only thing that saved his job prospects- Elias had hired him on the spot, shaking his hand and walking him down to the door himself. Rosie later expressed her shock at the situation, but Jon took no heed of it. _Elias was probably on his way out, anyway. I’m not that important._

It seemed, however, that his time at the Institute was coming to an end. He’d seen the people who came out of Elias’s office after this same summons- they shuffled to their desks, cleaned off their belongings, and were never seen in the library again. _And now it’s your turn!_ He followed behind Rosie dutifully, though her leisurely pace irked him further. He’d rather get this over with, face the chopping block, ask Sasha to pack up his things, and cry at home. He’d only gotten one year- _one year_ to delve into the research of the supernatural, and he’d barely scratched the surface. Jon’s first ‘in the field’ gig was just last week; a jewelry store ‘attempted robbery’ where nothing had been stolen. The cases however, had been cracked with an unbelievable amount of force (the ‘spooky’ part, though Jon figured there was a perfectly rational explanation). It seemed the shop had been previously owned by Simon Fairchild, a name that came up in many a statement. He knew to tread lightly, as they were big donors to the Institute- but what if Jon had somehow managed to offend? His inner panic was brought to a crescendo as he faced the door to Elias’s office. He raised a hand slowly.

_Knock Knock. Mr. Bouchard has a guest!_

“Come in, Jonathan.”

The smooth voice did nothing to quell his fear and he opened the heavy oak door. It groaned conspicuously in the otherwise silent room (save for the ever-ticking clock, of course) as he faced his executioner. Elias Bouchard, esteemed Head of the Magnus Institute.

He barely knew the man outside of a few stuttered conversations in the hallway. Sasha claims he never interacts with researchers, but Jon had found him personable enough in his encounters. Always a smile, always asking after his research with a genuine interest. He liked to think he was at least in the man’s good graces, but Elias Bouchard still remained an aloof enigma that Jon had yet to crack.

The man did not get up from his desk, but smiled easily at him, displaying a row of perfectly white teeth. Elias was the only man he’d met who could make a grin both sharp and somehow welcoming. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit and a matching tie threaded with a glittering silver design that Jon couldn’t make out. His graying blonde hair was slicked back from his forehead, and his blue eyes betrayed nothing but mild interest. Jon became increasingly aware of his own appearance. Not that there was anything wrong with what he was wearing- a button up, sweater vest, and slacks were pretty much the uniform for any researcher. It would be ridiculous for him to wear a suit, but he still became more self-conscious of the wrinkles in the fabric and his rolled-up sleeves. His hair had become rather disheveled as well, the end result of running a frustrated hand through his it one too many times. _Should’ve taken a moment to collect yourself before coming up. Made yourself_ presentable _. Mounted your defense_. Though the latter was difficult, admittedly, as he had no idea what he’d done wrong.

“How are you this morning, Jonathan? Avoided the rain, I hope?” Elias continued to smile pleasantly and Jon’s pulse skyrocketed as he stammered a response.

“F-fine, yes. Bone dry, ha!” _Stupid, stupid response_.

“Glad to hear it. Have a seat, please.” He gestured to the plush chair directly in front of his desk, and Jon promptly collapsed into it. A few more seconds of silence while Elias clicked around on his computer as if trying to locate a document. _His termination form, probably_.

“I’m sorry!” Jon found himself blurting out. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but Jon had always harbored a very strong fear of disappointing others, and to think he’d messed up enough to garner the attention of the Head of the Institute upset him more than he’d like to admit. “I-I didn’t mean to-"

“Didn’t mean to what?” Elias interrupted calmly. His smile turned more amused than anything. It did nothing to calm Jon’s racing heart. Especially since he didn’t know the answer.

“I’m not e-exactly sure, to be honest,” he began. “Is this about the Fairchild case?”

“Ah, yes,” was the amiable response, and his heart dropped. _Fucked up your first real investigation. Knew it._ “You did a very thorough job on that, I must say. You’ve got a keen eye for detail- I’ll be keeping my eye on your progress.”

_What?_

Now Jon was confused, which somehow intensified his panic even more. “T-thank you, of course, that means- well it means a lot, coming from you. But I-"

“Your expenses, however,” Elias continued. “Leave something to be desired.”

_Fuck._

He’d meant to run them by Sasha, or one of the other researchers- but he’d already almost hit the deadline, and Jon was nothing if not punctual. If he were being honest, more like fifteen minutes (or hours) ahead. He’d left them in an envelope on Rosie’s desk yesterday and he desperately tried to recall what they contained. He hadn’t spent much money- Hackney is only about thirty minutes from Central London, so train fare was barely an issue. He’d had to spend all day out there and most of his evening, so he assumed he’d get a meal out of it- only ordering dinner out of an abundance of caution. Sasha had _told_ him meals were fine. _Apparently not_.

“I shouldn’t have ordered dinner, I know,” he began. “Or at least shouldn’t have charged it. I would never expense out two meals, that’s extravagant, but I thought- well, Sasha said-" he stopped. He didn’t want Elias to think he was shifting blame or giving excuses. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Elias paused and gave him a look of confusion. “This isn’t about your dinner, Jon. Of course you can eat. In fact, I’m rather concerned that you consider lunch ‘an extravagance.’ Regular meals are important and we _do_ cover them. This is about your expense sheet- it’s just a bit more work for Rosie to view it as you've submitted, and I’d like to show you an easier way.” He gave him a reassuring smile. “Is that alright, Jon?

_Oh._

“O-Of course, Mr. Bouchard. I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this, you must be terribly busy- if you want I can reread the Employee Guide or maybe ask-"

“Please, we’ve been over this before- call me Elias.” Another warm smile. _How...kind, of him_. “And it’s no trouble at all. I hope you’ll find me a suitable teacher. Now please, if you would.” He gestured for Jon to come over to his side of the desk and Jon hurried to comply. He was acutely aware of their closeness- Jon could smell a small whiff of cologne ( _Is that cedar?)_ as he bent down minutely to look over the man’s shoulder. Elias pulled up the expense sheet on his screen, though Jon was sure he’d only given him a hard copy. _Did he get this from my hard drive?_

“Actually, I think it would be much easier if you sat down for this.” Jon assumed this meant to pull over a chair and moved accordingly, though the thought of awkwardly dragging the heavy, ornate chair over to the other side of the desk caused more anxiety to course through his system. _Now he’ll see how pathetic you are-_

But then Elias stood up himself and gestured down to his own chair with a smile. “Please, sit.”

_Uh._

_Hmm-_

_Alright. This is fine._

“Er- thank you, yes.” He mumbled to the floor, face burning as he sank into the chair. _Oh. That’s rather nice, isn’t it?_

“It’s rather nice, isn’t it?”

The echo of his words jolted him as he whipped his head back. Elias’s face, as usual, betrayed nothing but an accommodating smile. His anxiety was mounting towards a fever pitch. “Y-yes,” he replied. “Very…expensive. Sorry! I mean-“

“Relax, Jon!” the man let out a chuckle and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I should hope I’m getting my money’s worth. I’m glad you agree.” A soft squeeze. _Why is his hand so warm? Why is he being so nice? What does he want from me?_

“Now, if you’ll click here-“ Elias leaned down, his left hand still on Jon’s shoulder while he pointed to the screen. His face was inches away from Jon’s own, something he was acutely aware of as his skin itched with the proximity. Another breath of cologne, woody and intoxicating; Elias continued. “You’ll see your first problem, yes?”

Jon squinted at the screen, following Elias’s hand. _It’s just the section where I put my name,_ Jon wondered. _What could possibly-_

Oh. _Oh._

Name: Jonathan Simms.

_You complete imbecile. You utter buffoon. How could you-_

“Now, I wouldn’t presume to know the inner workings of your mind,” the smile was audible, now. “But I do believe you still spell it with one ‘m’, correct?” The hand on his shoulder now felt like an anchor- would it be possible to melt into this seat and disappear? Change his name and move to another country, start over? He would do none of these things, as Elias had just placed his right hand on his and began to guide the mouse.

“So let’s just fix that, hm?” he muttered as Jon remained silent, transfixed on the scene in front of him. Like a puppet being steered by his master, his hand found the typo and clicked- _the pressure of Elias’s index finger on his._ The hand lifted to press backspace, but returned soon after, warm and heavy on his. This motion took all of two seconds, but for Jon it could have been a millennia. Fair skin against dark, the man’s handed covered all of his and Jon’s mind blanked. His shoulders stiffened as an onslaught of one-word thoughts shot through his mind – _big warm heavy pressure yes-_

_Christ’s sake, ‘Simms’- pull yourself together!_

Elias seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil as he continued his directions. In one ear, and out the other- Jon’s mind had already surrendered to a strange liminal place somewhere between the office and a dimly-lit bedroom. He was expecting to be _fired,_ and yet here he was comfortably nestled in the chair (and arms) of his boss. _Why are you letting this happen- call Rosie in- call the police- help I’m being manhandled by my boss and I think I’m sort of enjoying it-_

“It’s much easier to do the expenses under one client instead of by each individual purchase, yes?” A click. “That way everything is neatly compiled in one row.” Backspace. Typing. Click. “There, isn’t that much better? Now for the columns up here- we can divide these into categories-" While Elias organized his train fare from his food, Jon’s was busy cataloging every point of contact between them. _I can feel his breath on my shoulder, when did he get that close-_

“…so now you know.” Elias stated with finality. Jon nodded weakly, completely unaware of what he knew or did not know. Seemingly satisfied, Elias released his paralyzed hand and stood straight, the other skimming his shoulders as he drew back. Jon felt both relieved and adrift in equal measure, the ghost of Elias’s gentle touch stinging his shoulder blades like the prick of a needle. “I trust your next submission will be beyond reproach.”

Jon stood abruptly and the chair eked back much further than anticipated- luckily, Elias was still close to his side and seemed mildly amused at his employee’s fumble. Jon swallowed then cleared his suddenly dry throat.

“Well, I- thank you for showing me, you’re very handsy-uh, hands-on! That is,” _Stop talking. Just. Stop._ “I don’t think I’ll be sent on another investigation for quite some time, but this is very, uh-well, very useful. So. Thanks.”

_Head down, leave the room. No eye contact. This is fine._

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Elias kept talking. _I need to be taken out,_ Jon thought deliriously as he came to a stop anyway, still facing the door. _Assassinated. Put down._ “I think you’ll find we have a lot of uses for a man of your…talents. Though maybe not in accounting, hm?” A laugh. Jon tried to match it, but it came out in a more strangled, ‘cry for help’ tone than he would have hoped.

“Yes! Ha, yes. Thank you for your time and uh, the lesson. Yes. Much appreciated. I have to go…leave, now. Goodbye.” With that eloquent statement, he rushed out the door, barely nodding to a startled Rosie.

From now on, all of his expenses had to be done _perfectly._ No more excuses to be in a room with Bouchard, in close quarters, doing… _touching_. He’d be beyond reproach, just like Elias wanted- no need for any private meetings or corrections. Double check. Triple check. _Perfect._

The problem with this plan, however, was that he didn’t remember a single word Elias had said, and still had no _fucking_ clue how to properly submit expenses.

And the other problem being his temptation to turn around and ask if he’d show him again.

Maybe slower, this time.

**Author's Note:**

> And here is my first day of JonElias shenanigans. Sometimes, expenses are sexy. Can't believe Jon's about to get some police officer sectioned over spreadsheet crimes.
> 
> This is for Day One: Season 1/Pre-canon/ HR Violations.


End file.
